


Beginnings: Goniff

by WildClover27 (PrairieFlower)



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieFlower/pseuds/WildClover27
Summary: Goniff arrives at the Mansion. How does he react to the men and Garrison and how do they react to him





	Beginnings: Goniff

The tousled blond head was the first part of the man to emerge from the back of the MP van. The gamin face scanned the immediate area and stared at the building to his right. 

“Come on,” said a tired soldier. “We don’t have all day for you to sightsee.”

Despite the shackles and chains, the slight man jumped agilely to the ground, maintaining his balance with ease. He held his hands out as far as he could, a bright smile begging the soldier to release the handcuffs around his wrists and the shackles from his ankles.

“Lieutenant?” the soldier questioned the Army officer standing off in front of the step to the manor house. 

“You can uncuff him, Sergeant,” said Garrison.

The blond man grinned as the restraints were removed. He gave a little wiggle of pleasure to be free. Except for a brief time on the plane coming over from the States, he had been wearing the metal jewelry for most of the past three days. While the army officer signed the paperwork, the bright-eyed man took a slower look at the surroundings. The air smelled like England. A glance down the drive at the pasture looked like England, but not much else did.

“Mr. Grainger,” said the taller blond officer, “come with me.”

The cheerful man followed the lieutenant toward the stone block steps leading to the building that he would probably be calling home for a while.

“Are you sure this is Ole Blighty?” Grainger asked dubiously.

“I don’t know about Blighty,” replied Garrison, but this area is called Brandonshire.”

“Maybe,” said Grainger, with a bounce to his step. “But that is the ugliest ‘ouse I’ve ever seen. It don’t belong in England.”

“Probably not,” agreed Garrison. 

His new pickpocket and second story man was definitely an energetic perrson. Reaching the landing, Garrison waited while an armed guard opened the door to what was rapidly becoming known as the Mansion. The blond moved in ahead of him.

“Ah, now this is more like it,” said Grainger with satisfaction. He immediately spotted the three men in the common room to his left. 

“Gentlemen,” said Garrison, “This is . . .”

“Me name’s Goniff,” said the man proudly.

“Thief?” asked the tall Italian in amusement from the far right chair. 

“That’s me, Mate,” smiled the pickpocket. “It’s wot I do.”

Goniff. Apparently, it meant thief in some language that wasn’t English. It must be a language Garrison’s multi-lingual confidence man knew.

Craig continued the introductions. “The one you’re talking to is Actor. Wheeler is sitting in the chair on the right. And the one at the table is Casino.” 

The bald man eyed him up and down and sneered. “You don’t look like much.”

The Cockney shrugged. He had pegged the man at first sight. He was trouble, and not the kind Goniff wanted any part of. A quick stab of recognition shot through him. Wheeler. The man from Sing-Sing wot got sent to the Rock for stabbing another inmate and a guard with a handmade shank. It had never been proved he was going to kill the men, but he had been sent to the island prison anyway. Oh bloody ‘ell.  
He looked at the third man, sitting at the table with a deck of cards. The man had a bored countenance as he idly thumbed the corner of the deck of playing cards. The look he gave the slight man was neither friendly, nor unfriendly, but more like bored.

“This way,” said Garrison. “Your quarters are upstairs.”

The gamin man grinned and followed the Army officer up the steps. Blue eyes darted around as they reached the landing. A short hall extended from the landing with two closed doors on the left. There was a guard at the far door on the right and another one at the door that opened down in the middle of the short hall and across from the two other doors. There were three closed doors on the right side of that hall, a door at the end of the hall and two more on the left side. Having no expectations of what their quarters would be like, Goniff was not surprised or disappointed when he was led into another common room.   
There was a table in the center, much like the one downstairs. Three cots were to the left and two to the right. Glancing around, the pickpocket noticed there was a still tightly made up cot on the left, closest to the fireplace. 

“Take your pick,” said Garrison. “The one on the far left is vacant and the one in the near right corner.”

“I’ll take the one by the fireplace,” said Goniff. The other thing he had noticed right away was the other cot on the right wasn’t nearly as neatly made as the two less obviously occupied ones on the left. The right had to be Wheeler. He didn’t want none o’ that bloke. He had also heard tales about the man’s proclivity for other weaker men in prison. Now he noticed the “jewelry” hanging from each cot. 

“’Ow are we s’posed to sleep if we’re tied to the bloody bed?” squeaked the Englishman. “They didn’t do that in Sing-Sing.”

“You aren’t locked up behind bars here,” noted Garrison. 

“Oh? What are those on the windows?”

Garrison ignored that as a soldier brought in the pickpocket’s bag and set it on the floor.

“Get settled,” said Garrison, “then come down to my office.” He turned and followed the soldier out.

“Get settled ‘e says,” muttered Goniff, not loud enough to be heard by the guard at the door.

The spritely Englishman lifted his bag and went to the cot he had chosen as his own. A hand on the blanketed mattress told him it wasn’t any worse than the cots in stir. Wasn’t any better either. He put his bag on top of the cot and opened a footlocker at the end of the bed. Another bag was inside. Goniff removed it, sat on the mattress and opened the bag. There wasn’t much in it; a comb, toothbrush, toothpaste and a pack of American cigarettes. The pack was opened, one cigarette shook out and stuck between the blond man’s lips. Digging in the bottom of the bag, he came up with a book of matches. Guess they were being trusted not to set the ruddy place on fire. He lit the cigarette dangling from his lips and sucked in a deep breath of smoke, letting it out slowly. The kit was stowed back in the foot locker and now Goniff opened his bag. The pair of pants and shirt he took out were too big for him, but they would have to do. He dropped his clothing in the open chest and tossed the bag in atop everything before tapping the lid to fall with a crack. So much for getting settled in. 

Still smoking the cigarette and dropping the ashes on the floor, the Englishman wandered slowly around the room, peering into nooks and crannies to see what treasures he could find. The pickings were slim. Like those before him, he opened the windows and tested the bars before taking a look around at the outside structure. And like the others, he found the trellis to appear easy to scale. That was provided they could get past the bars that were firmly implanted and sealed in the stucco-covered brick sill. Well, maybe they wouldn’t be here long enough to need an escape route. Just one mission they had said. One mission and he would have his parole. Then he could go back to New York and be with his mum and Aunt Molly.

Craig perused the report in the open folder in front of him. The slight nimble man had been in and out of jails and prisons in the States, England and Ireland since he was a boy. Of his ability as a second story man, there was no doubt. He never worked alone; rather in a gang. He was used to taking orders and working with others. Somewhat grudgingly, “Goniff” was well liked by guards and wardens.

But there was a downside. Wasn’t there always with these men, thought Craig. The man was bordering on, if not outright, being a kleptomaniac. He couldn’t seem to control himself. Like a magpie, if it was bright and shiny, he couldn’t resist stealing it. That had been his downfall time and time again. One warden had even written Grainger should never be paroled; he was not able to be rehabilitated.

Garrison closed the file. It wasn’t his job, or the Army’s, to rehabilitate them. Just the opposite. It was their expertise in their areas that the Army wanted to use. Garrison had no desire to take the edge off their abilities by trying to turn them into upstanding citizens.

Goniff bounced into this office and plopped into the chair facing Garrison.

“So how soon do we start?” asked Goniff. “The sooner we get it done, the sooner I get me parole.”

Garrison was not about to address the parole issue. It would wait until they finished the first mission. If any of them, himself included, was left alive.

“Ground rules . . . you keep your personal area neat and clean. No fighting. You try to escape, you will be returned to Sing Sing. The locked area of the building is off limits.” He continued to instruct the Englishman on exercise and training times, and meal times. “Any questions?”

“No,” replied Goniff.

“Then you’re dismissed,” said Garrison. 

The blond stood up and held a hand out to Garrison. Craig shook it, wondering. Goniff turned and headed toward the door. Garrison looked down at the file. 

“Goniff. Put the letter opener back,” he said matter-of-factly.

Goniff grinned and walked back, pulling the silver letter opener from his sleeve and dropping it on the desk. With a shrug, like what did you expect, he turned and left he office. 

Blimey, this bloke was good. It had usually taken the other wardens an hour or more to notice something was missing from their desks. He missed the officer sitting back and shaking his head. Now he had a better look at the three other convicts. Goniff’s glance at Wheeler was furtive. The big bald man showed no interest in him and that was the way the pickpocket wanted it. The one called Actor was sitting in his chair, feet crossed on an ottoman, newspaper open in front of his face.

His attention went to the man called Casino sitting at the table. An array of playing cards was spread out in front of the man in a game of solitaire. This man was wiry and looked as though he might be able to take on Wheeler if it came to that. The tall man with the European accent didn’t look like he could.

Goniff wandered over to the table and pulled out a chair across from Casino. He took a seat and leaned his elbows on the table. “Wotcha playin’ Mate?”

“Solitaire,” replied Casino. His tone sounded like he could have finished with ‘what’s it look like.’

The man’s somewhat surly attitude did not put the slight Englishman off. “Got another deck?”

“Nope.” 

“Oh, too bad,” said Goniff. He leaned forward to watch the play of cards. It was obvious the man was cheating. His leaning forward and fidgeting finally got to the man.

“What? You want a game of poker?” asked Casino, gathering the cards to him with a sweep of his hands.

Goniff would have loved to play poker, but . . . “They didn’t give me money,” he lamented.

“We don’t have any either.”

Casino took a drag on his cigarette and picked up a matchbox. He opened it and dumped the contents on the table, taking a finger and dividing the matches into two even piles. Goniff scooped one pile closer to him. 

“I would not recommend playing for money with him,” intoned the deep voice from behind the newspaper.

“Butt out, Actor,” snarled Casino. “Who asked you anyway?”

“Merely making conversation.” The newspaper did not lower.

Goniff did not say anything. Wot? Did they think he was an idget? If the bloke was cheatin’ when he was playing by himself, it was a sure thing he’d cheat if he was playin’ with someone else. He picked up the cards Casino was dealing to him. Looking them over carefully, he moved a jack of diamonds in between a jack of hearts and a jack of spades. The other two cards were a two of diamonds and a five of hearts. He pushed two matchsticks to the middle of the table. 

“You gonna take all day?” asked Casino impatiently.

Goniff laid the two of diamonds on the table, face down. The safecracker dealt him one card. It was a four of clubs. Still, three jacks was good. He pushed two more matches into the middle pile. Casino called. Goniff laid his cards face up in front of him.

A knowing grin came to Casino’s face. With a bit of flourish, he laid down four queens and a two. As he racked the matches to him, a raucous laugh came from Wheeler.

“Knew it,” the bald man chortled. “Just what is it you’re supposed to be so good at, huh Limey?”

Goniff didn’t take offence at the reference. He’d only been here a little more than an hour. It wouldn’t do no good to get in a fight with Wheeler. Besides, he’d lose anyway. “I’m a second story man.”

“Must not have been a good one if you were in Sing Sing,” he shot back derisively.

Casino turned his head and eyed the thug. “Yeah and what were you doin’ on the Rock?”

“I took out a screw and a stoolie,” he answered proudly.

That brought the newspaper partway down as the confidence man gave their ‘driver’ a dubious look. Actor then looked at Goniff. 

“Funny,” Goniff couldn’t resist. “They was still there when I left for ‘ere. Boff of ‘um.”

Actor could not resist either. “Perhaps killing is not your forte,” he suggested.

That got Wheeler’s attention and he climbed out of his chair saying, “Yeah, Pretty Boy? Let’s see what I do to you.”

Actor was on his feet in one fluid motion. The Italian stood a full six inches taller than Wheeler. The bald man did not judge the usually sedate con man as anything he couldn’t handle.

“Knock it off!” the stern yell came from the Lieutenant’s office.

“We’d like to, Warden,” hollered Casino back.

By the time Garrison reached his door, two of the guards were at the base of the stairs, guns pointed at the men in the common room. The Lieutenant’s hand stretched out, palm toward the soldiers. 

“Sit down, Wheeler. And the rest of you go back to what you were doing.”

Garrison leaned deceptively at ease against the door frame, arms crossed in front of him. Wheeler gave him a hard, challenging glare. When Garrison didn’t back down, he sat back in his chair. Actor picked up his rumpled newspaper from the floor, turning his head to look at the young officer. With a twitch of the corner of his mouth that might have been taken for a grin of approval, he straightened and snapped the paper to get it in order before settling back in his chair. Satisfied, Garrison stood and went back into his office.

When things had settled down, Goniff quietly asked Casino, “Warden?”

“Sure,” replied the cracksman, dealing the cards out again. “Screws are the same everywhere. He’s just the head screw here. That makes him the Warden.”

Made sense. Goniff gave a brief nod of understanding. 

GGG

Supper that night was the time for Garrison to watch his men. The seating arrangement showed the hierarchy among the cons. From the beginning, Actor had taking the chair at the opposite end of the table from Garrison. It put him more on a par with the officer and separated him from the other men. Casino was to Craig’s right and Wheeler to the left. The two cons faced each other.   
Garrison watched to see where Goniff would sit. The slight, nervous man took his place between Casino and Actor. Sides were being taken. It did not surprise the Lieutenant that Wheeler was left to himself. He wondered what would happen when the fifth con arrived in a couple days.

The swinging door to the kitchen opened and another of the army helpers came out with plates balanced on his forearm like a waiter. Even the staff had their hierarchy with the men. Garrison was served first, of course. The two men to his right were bypassed and the second plate was placed in front of the confidence man. On the way back to the kitchen, the third plate was placed in front of Casino.

“Hey, where’s mine?” demanded Wheeler loudly.

The army corporal ignored the outburst. He returned an a few seconds with two more plates. A plate was placed in front of Goniff before the man walked around behind Garrison to serve Wheeler.

“About time,” complained the boorish man.

The meal was the same every day. There were brown beans, a thick slab of Spam, a roll with a dab of butter, and some kind of fruit juice. The men generally opted for a cup of ersatz coffee. Garrison did not think it was enough for the men, especially with the physical training. The only one with meat on his bones was Wheeler. Casino was lean and wiry. Actor was tall, but could easily have handled another twenty pounds on his frame. The new man was downright thin and somewhere between five foot nine and ten. Even the Lieutenant had lost weight since coming overseas with the Army.

Unconsciously, Garrison had been waiting for it and barely stifled a smile at the sigh of resignation that crossed the length of the table. Despite his disgust with the fare, Actor ate delicately with knife and fork, as if what on his plate was fine cuisine.

Casino ate with the air of someone eating because he had to. Wheeler was shoveling it in with abandon. 

Garrison glanced at Goniff, truly surprised to see the man’s plate was already empty. The pickpocket was stealthily eyeing the half empty plate of the safecracker. 

Casino hated Spam and it was obvious. There were only a couple tiny bites out of the slab. He finished the last bite of beans and mopped up the remaining sauce with his roll.

“Um, if you aren’t going to eat that meat, Mate, could you slide it over ‘ere?” asked Goniff.

Casino gave him a dubious look before picking up his plate and sliding the greasy mess onto the pickpocket’s plate. Goniff grinned and dug in.

“Hey! How come you didn’t ask me if I wanted that?” demanded Wheeler.

“Perhaps because you don’t appear to be in need of it and he does,” said Actor, before Casino could come up with a suitable response.

“Nobody asked you,” sneered Wheeler, only to be ignored by the con man. The bald man turned back to Casino.

“What he said,” replied the safecracker.

Wheeler started to rise, shoving his chair back. Casino gave him a look, begging the man to give him an excuse to get into a fight. Goniff pulled back into himself, fork in mid-air, eyes darting between the two men. Actor watched dispassionately.

“Sit down!” ordered Garrison sternly. When the bald man stopped in mid movement and gave him a challenging look, the officer said firmly, “Now, Wheeler, before you find yourself in the stockade and on your way back to prison.”

Wheeler held out for a few seconds before sitting. “Aw, you don’t have the balls for it. Besides, you need me.”

“Everyone is replaceable,” replied Garrison, seeming to turn his attention back to his meal. “Are you in that much of a hurry to return to Alcatraz?”

Wheeler sat down and said something under his breath.

“What was that?” asked Garrison.

“Nuthin’.”

Garrison had not missed the hard look that had been cast in his direction by his confidence man at the word “replaceable.” Casino was leaning back in his chair, face not showing anything. And the little pickpocket was inhaling the rest of Casino’s Spam.

After dinner was over, the Lieutenant produced another deck of cards to keep the bickering down to a dull roar. Of course that put Wheeler’s nose out of joint, so Garrison tossed a deck to him too. Before returning to his office, Craig gave a questioning look at Actor and received a small shake of the head. Apparently solitaire was beneath his dignity. His dossier said he was well known along the Italian and French Rivieras for his card skills. 

The next couple hours were quieter. Casino and Goniff had sprawled their card games across the middle table, effectively blocking Wheeler from joining them. In a huff, the bald man had taken a seat at the chess table by the window and was playing alone. Actor remained in his chair, feet up on the ottoman, reading what Garrison later discovered was a book on military strategy.

The ten o’clock curfew arrived and the cons were escorted to their room by some of the guards. Goniff stripped down to his boxer shorts and climbed into bed. One guard made the rounds, snapping handcuffs on the cons, starting with Wheeler. 

Goniff kept up a chatter with the guard when it was his turn to be cuffed to the bed. It kept the man’s mind occupied while the pickpocket searched as much of him as could be reached. No key was found. The guard did not realize he had been searched and the other men had not seen it. But, that was why Goniff was so good; his victims never felt him and bystanders never saw him do it. 

Goniff wiggled around on the flat mattress, trying to find a comfortable position. Due to the constraint of the handcuff, he could only lay on his back or right side. He was a restless sleeper. This wasn’t going too well; not at all, at all. He twitched his body onto his side, punched the pillow with his free hand and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Despite his worries, he was asleep almost instantly.

The next morning, Goniff yawned between bites of dry scrambled powdered egg. He had already inhaled the one thin rasher of bacon. Quick work was made of the egg and single slice of toast with barely a smear of butter. Looking at the plate of the man to his left, he saw that breakfast was almost consumed.

Goniff eyed his empty plate and pasted a bright smile on his gamin face before looking around at Garrison.

“Warden, could I ‘ave another egg?” he asked hopefully, “I’m famished.”

Garrison shook his head. “Sorry, Goniff, that’s why they call it rationing.” Craig received the same amount of food as the others did.

“Well I ain’t gettin’ enough to eat,” complained Wheeler loudly.

Casino eyed his less than trim torso across the table. “You’ll live.”

“Who asked you?” shot back the man belligerently, beginning to rise from his seat.

“Sit down,” commanded Garrison. “It’s nice to see you have so much energy this morning. You’ll need it today.”

Goniff wondered what that meant. He was soon to find out.

After breakfast, they all went to the library/map room. A stand was at the corner of the table with a map of Europe on it. The men took seats at the table and waited in various stages of boredom. Garrison picked up a pointer and laid the tip on a section of blue that covered almost all of Europe except Switzerland, Sweden, and the British Isles. 

“I realize you gentlemen have been out of connection with the outside world for a time,” said the Lieutenant. “The blue area is German-held territory.” This statement got the attention of three of them.

“Bloody ‘ell,” breathed Goniff. 

“That’s almost all of Europe!” said Casino in surprise. 

Actor was silent. He knew Mussolini had sold out his homeland to Hitler and the Germans had taken France and a few other countries, but to see the extensive area of blue on the map was eye-opening to say the least.

“This is what we are fighting for,” said Garrison.

“So what?” said Wheeler with a bored tone. Amazingly, nobody snapped back at him.

Garrison looked at his men. Wheeler’s reaction was about what he had expected. Goniff’s and Casino’s reactions were slightly stronger than expected. Actor’s face was one of disgust; something unusual for the unemotional man. Craig put that down to the man having only been in prison in the States for the past five years. It would hit closer to home, literally, for him.

Remaining standing, Garrison gave a brief and simplified explanation of where things in Europe were at right now and what Hitler’s plans were, that they knew of. Wheeler wasn’t paying any attention. The other three watched in varying degrees of interest.

“Any questions?”

Actor was sucking on one cheek. “Do we know where this mission is going to be?”

“No,” replied Garrison. “We still have one more man coming and all of you need more training.”

“There any money in it for us?” asked Wheeler.

The Lieutenant shook his head. “You signed on for a parole only. You don’t get paid.”

“I’ll bet you do.” There was a snide expression on the man’s face.

Again, Garrison shook his head. “Nothing more than any other army officer of my rank.”

“And that is not very much,” added Actor.

Garrison wondered just how much the con man did know about him.

“If there are no more questions, we’ll head out for jump practice.”

That brought groans from everyone except Goniff. The newest member had no idea what that was. He thought maybe they had to practice jumping over things. Again, he was in for a bit of a surprise.  
The men followed Garrison through the tall wooden gate to the back of the estate. Nice lawn, thought Goniff. It would be great for some football, British style. The group began to straggle out behind the officer. Garrison’s stride did not shorten or slow. He knew the men would catch up. The guards behind them would see to that. They skirted woods and came upon what looked like a high dive tower, but without the board. There was a soldier and a box at the top of the tower. Some kind of large pulley rig projected from above the platform into the air in front of it. 

“Wot’s that?” asked Goniff.

“A parachute jump training platform,” replied Garrison.

They reached the base of the tower and the cons stood around as far from it as possible with a soldier behind them; all except Goniff. He walked around the tower, studying it. When he got back to Garrison he grinned.

“So ‘ow does it work?” asked the second-story man.

“You climb up there. A harness is attached to you to slow your descent and you jump off the platform. When you get to the bottom, you tuck and roll.”

Goniff nodded confidently. He knew how to tuck and roll, 

“Okay, which one of you gentlemen wants to go first?” asked Garrison.

“I will,” said Goniff, headed for the ladder that went up the back side of the tower.

“Goniff,” called Craig. “I think you should watch first to see how it’s done.”

“I’m fine,” replied the pickpocket scurrying up the ladder.

Great, thought Craig. He would have some explaining to do if the slight man killed himself the first day of training. Casino and Wheeler stepped farther back. To the opposite, Actor stepped up beside the officer.  
“He has done this before?” the Italian asked dubiously, eyes trained on the platform.

“Not in his record,” replied Garrison, eyes also on the platform.

The man was quickly harnessed and stepped to the edge of the platform. He looked down without any obvious concern and waggled his fingers at the men in a wave.

“Scheisse,” muttered Garrison, unconsciously.

“Ja.” The German word was uttered equally as low beside him. 

They both watched as the blond man took a long step from the platform. He hit the ground in a perfect tuck and roll, ending on his feet. With a satisfied grin, Goniff unbuckled the harness and shrugged out of it. With a cocky spin on the balls of his feet, he sauntered over to Garrison.

“Like that?”

Garrison eyed him. “Have you parachuted before?”

“No,” denied the pickpocket, “I’ve ‘ad to jump out of a second story window a time or two. Same thing.” He walked past Garrison toward the other two men. “An’ that’s ‘ow it’s done, Mates.” He bragged.

Behind him, Garrison heard a sarcastic voice, “Hardy har har.”

“Show off,” griped Wheeler.

Craig ignored them and watched his confidence man climb the ladder to the platform, albeit a bit slower than Goniff had. Harnessed up, Actor seemed to hesitate a half second before jumping from the platform. His landing was correct, but not as acrobatic as the pickpocket’s. Great thought Garrison, one was agile and fearless, one might be a little hesitant, one was unhappy but willing and the final one was flat out balky.   
After each had jumped five times, Garrison took them back to the car park where targets had been set up against a wall. There were more guards than usual and they were all well-armed. A table with semi-automatic handguns was off to one side. This was the first time he was allowing the men to touch a firearm. He didn’t know how well versed each was in shooting. He was about to find out.  
The men eyed the weapons, some dubiously and one with a nasty grin. Garrison picked up one of the guns and proceeded to demonstrate loading, and cocking. He turned and casually fired the gun; a hole appearing through the heart on one of the targets of a man.

Turning back, he asked, “Which of you has ever fired a gun before?”

Actor held up a finger and Wheeler held up his hand.

“Casino?” Craig asked.

“Naw,” replied the safecracker with apparent disinterest. “My ole man didn’t want me goin’ to the electric chair.”

“Well, we’ll try to see that doesn’t happen,” remarked Garrison. 

The blond Englishman was fidgeting, eyes darting to the gun in Garrison’s hand and away again.

“Goniff?”

“Not me – no – never touched one before,” he blurted, shaking his head quickly. 

“All right. Wheeler, you’re first. Take your pick from the table.”

The bald man sauntered over and hefted one of the guns. He cocked it and turned toward Garrison, gun aimed at him. The cocking of five guns was heard in the dead silence. The three other men looked at Garrison.

Blimey, thought Goniff, wouldn’t do to kill the ruddy ‘Warden’ before they could even get started.

Actor and Casino were still, waiting to see how this was going to play out. There must be ice water flowing through the officer’s veins. Garrison looked back at Wheeler, the gun in his hand pointed down by his hip.

“Never point a gun at someone unless you intend to kill them, Wheeler,” said the Lieutenant as though teaching the man.

“Yeah, I know.” Wheeler grinned evilly.

“You have five guns trained on you right now,” said Garrison unperturbed. “Six if you count mine,”

“You ain’t even . . .” he never finished the sentence, surprised to find himself looking into the black hole at the end of the barrel that was aimed at his head.

Garrison lowered his hand and turned away. “Now, let’s see if you can hit the target.”

Wheeler slowly walked up to the taped line on the drive, took aim at a target and pulled the trigger. A hole appeared on the upper edge of the left shoulder.

“Again,” said Garrison, “Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull it.”

“I know how to do it,” snarled Wheeler.

“Then prove it,” said Garrison calmly.

The bald man tried again and again missed. “Aw this is stupid. It ain’t a real man.”

“No,” agreed the officer. “If it was, you’d be dead now. We’ll practice more. Now put the gun back on the table and step back. Casino, your turn.”

The two cons crossed paths without a word. Garrison watched the safecracker gingerly pick up a gun and point it down.

“Keep a firm grip on the gun. It’s semiautomatic, if you drop it, it could fire and kill someone; yourself included.”

Goniff watched and listened to the instructions the Lieutenant gave the safecracker. Not used to handling a gun, Casino’s shots were as wild as Wheeler’s. After emptying a clip, Garrison allowed Casino to put the gun back and motioned for the tall Italian to take his turn.

Actor picked up the gun a little more firmly than Casino. He knew enough to keep it pointed away from anyone.

“Are you familiar with a semiautomatic?” asked Garrison.

Actor shook his head. “I rarely have need for one in my line of work. I was quite accurate with a rifle when I was a boy.”

“You were a boy?” cracked Casino. He was ignored.

Garrison watched as Actor pulled the slid back to chamber a bullet. The man had thick wrists and strong arm muscles. He extended his arm took aim with the opposite eye closed and fired. The first hole appeared in the head of the silhouette. It wasn’t perfect, but better than the other two men. The Italian did not wait for instructions, but continued firing until the clip was empty. Garrison was impressed, though he didn’t show it. The bullets had all hit the silhouette. Maybe not always in a vital place, but still enough to slow his opponent down in a fight.

“Another show off,” grumbled Wheeler behind them. 

Actor totally ignored the man, walked to the table and placed the gun back on it before walking over by Casino.

“Goniff, your turn,” said Garrison.

“I think I’ll pass on this one,” said the blond man nervously.

“No, you will take your turn,” said the Lieutenant calmly.

“I – I – I really don’t want to,” hedged the slight man.

“You will be taught how to use this and a number of other guns before the mission,” explained Garrison. “You can’t go into German-occupied territory without being able to defend yourself.”

Reluctantly the pickpocket picked up the last gun and walked back to the officer, looking at the weapon as though it was going to bite him. Garrison, by this time, was wondering what he had gotten himself into with these men. They pretty much did not know anything. He instructed Goniff, step-by-step, using the two-handed method with him. Stepping back, he told the man how to aim and squeeze the trigger.   
Goniff was doing okay, with only a minor tremble to his hands. He licked his lips, tried to aim down the sights, closed his eyes at the last moment and pulled the trigger. The gun jerked in his hand, bullet going wildly to hit the wall and ricochet with a loud crack that had everyone ducking. Thankfully, the man was too scared to drop the gun, but hung onto it like his hand was glued to it. His entire body trembled.

“Take you finger out of the trigger guard,” said Garrison in a low slow voice, relieved when the pickpocket did as he was told. He approached the man and took the gun away from him. “Okay, we will have to work on that,” Craig said, amazed his voice was so calm. At this rate, it was going to be a long war. And that was the end of target practice for that day.

The final convict was scheduled to arrive that afternoon. It would remain to be seen how that wo


End file.
